Scared to Death. Debby Giusti

I keep a stove-top coffeemaker for these occasions, as well.” He placed a glass of orange juice and mug of coffee on the side table.

      The rich aroma made her stomach churn, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in over twenty-four hours.

      He shuffled his feet and glanced at the door he’d just walked through. “Holler if you need anything. I’ll be in the kitchen cleaning up.”

      Kate reached for the silverware as he left the room and shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

      “Mmm.” The man could cook.

      When she finished, she placed the empty plate on the table, closed her eyes and dozed until a knock caused her eyes to fly open. She straightened in the chair and listened.

      Heavy steps crossed the hardwood foyer. A door opened.

      “Doc.” Nolan’s voice. “Didn’t think you’d be able to make it over this morning. How’re the roads?”

      “Could be better. Thank goodness for four-wheel drive.”

      “Let me hang up your coat.”

      Fabric rustled. She envisioned the doctor shrugging out of his wrap.

      “How’s my patient?”

      “Resting. She ate breakfast earlier.”

      Kate glanced at the side table. The dirty dishes had been replaced with a second glass of juice.

      “Still deathly pale,” Nolan continued, his voice drawing closer.

      She raked her hand through her hair, a bit self-conscious at being the topic of their discussion.

      The door to the foyer opened. Lloyd Samuels burst into the room, bringing a rush of cool air with him.

      “Morning, Kate. Looks like Nolan’s taking good care of you.”

      She glanced from the doctor to her host and smiled. “He’s been very kind.”

      “The nurse forgot to give you these last night.” He placed the wooden crutches he carried on the floor beside her chair. “Should help your mobility. Glad to see you’ve got that leg elevated.”

      Reaching for the chenille throw, he asked, “Mind if I take a peek?”

      “Not at all.” Kate flipped the cover off her left leg and looked up.

      Nolan’s eyes locked on hers. She flushed and looked away.

      “I’ll give you two some privacy.” Nolan stepped toward the kitchen door. “Coffee, Lloyd?”

      “Sounds good. Add a little cream, if you’ve got it.”

      The doctor bent to examine Kate’s leg. Unfastening the brace, his fingers probed a tender spot. She drew in a sharp breath.

      “Sorry. Swelling’s about the same. Use the crutches and keep your weight off that leg for a few more days.”

      “I need to get back to Atlanta.”

      “Not until the swelling goes down.” He reconnected the immobilizer, then fished a plastic bottle from his pocket and placed it on the table. “Pain medication. I called in a prescription to the pharmacy. These’ll tide you over until the roads clear. Sheriff said the electricity should be on later this evening. By tomorrow morning, things should be back to normal.”

      A two-hour drive from Atlanta with a wrecked auto and injured leg, Kate doubted her life would be normal anytime soon. She’d give herself seventy-two hours max to recuperate here in Mercy. Then, she’d return to Atlanta one way or another.

      Nolan returned with mugs of coffee and offered one to the doctor, who sipped the hot brew and smacked his lips. “Just what I needed.”

      He downed another swig before looking thoughtfully at Nolan. “Where’s Heather?”

      “Upstairs. She refuses to leave her room.”

      The doctor nodded. “Kids have a hard time accepting death, especially when it’s sudden. I could prescribe something.”

      “No.”

      The sharpness of Nolan’s response surprised Kate, although she had to agree. Drugs wouldn’t help Heather deal with her grief.

      “I know how much Tina meant to Heather.” Doc Samuels cleared his throat. “Like I told you at the clinic, Kate, folks in Mercy loved Tina. She was a committed Christian with a good heart.”

      Last night, Kate’s mind had been fuzzy with pain medication. Had she told the doctor about Tina’s phone call? Surely, Lloyd Samuels wasn’t one of the people Tina had said she couldn’t trust.

      The doctor looked at Nolan. “Wade said he talked to you about holding Tina’s service as soon as possible. That is, if the weather cooperates.”

      Kate readjusted the throw and reached for the coffee Nolan had placed next to her chair.

      “You mean Tina’s funeral?” she asked, the mug halfway to her lips. “Why the rush?”

      “Another storm’s expected early next week,” the doc replied. “Plus, Mercy’s a small town. News travels. No need to wait for the obit notice in the paper. Most folks work during the week. More of them would be able to pay their respects tomorrow.”

      Nolan raised his brow. “Tomorrow?”

      “That’s right. Wade wants to take advantage of the lull between the storms.”

      Kate slanted another glance out the window. “Isn’t the ground frozen?”

      “Not a problem.” The doctor drank again.

      She imagined the frigid air blowing over the grave-site. “But—”

      He placed the mug on the table and smiled. “Cremation, Miss Murphy. That’s what Tina requested.”

      Cremation? No way.

      Blame it on a Hispanic upbringing, but cremation had never been an option for the Espinosa family. Eddie’s death had only driven home the point.

      Never by fire. Never.

      Kate needed to set the doctor straight. “Look, cremation’s not what Tina would have wanted.”

      “According to Wade, it’s precisely what she did want,” the doctor insisted.

      “You’re saying she prearranged her funeral?”

      “Not exactly. But she and Wade talked once Tina realized her condition was life threatening.”

      “Pardon?”

      The doctor’s nostrils flared. “So Wade would know her preferences in case something unforeseen happened, Miss Murphy.”

      His tone was sharp. Maybe he didn’t like his authority questioned.

      “Tina was only twenty-nine.” And never one to plan for the future, Kate remembered, keeping the thought to herself.

      Lloyd shrugged. “But highly allergic.”

      “To what?”

      “Latex, Kate. A growing problem. The incidence has increased significantly in the last twenty years or so.”

      Kate knew the statistics. “Since medical personnel began wearing gloves on a regular basis. But that’s within the health-care community.”

      The doctor turned to Nolan. “Didn’t you say Tina worked as a nurse’s aide out in California?”

      “That’s where we met her.”

      “Told me she’d had contact dermatitis for years,” Lloyd continued.

      “Eczema,” Kate interjected. Tina had always been self-conscious of her rough red skin. An irritating condition but not the result of latex.

      “The situation